Lonely Is the Night
by November9Noir
Summary: Post Episode 1.23 'Firewall', a totally awesome season finale! Speculation/ AU / hey, it could happen this way! Wanted to get it posted before it's officially AU. Related to my other story 'You Can't Always Get What You Want'. Hope you enjoy!


Title: Lonely is the Night

Author: November9Noir

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from 'Person of Interest,' nor am I profiting from this work in any way.

A/N: post-episode 1.23 'Firewall,' speculation and AU when Season 2 starts, so thought I'd get it posted before it's officially AU! Is it September 27th yet? Inspiration: early-80s guitar god Billy Squier song of the same name that I heard the next day after this episode aired, and I thought it was appropriate.

_Lonely is the night, when you find yourself alone/Your demons come to light, and your mind is not your own_

_Lonely is the night, when there's no one left to call/You feel the time is right, say the writing's on the wall_

* * *

_Monitoring asset Reese, John…_

"He's in danger now, because he was working for _you_. So you're going to help me get him back."

_Error: Continuity of operations compromised. Evaluating options…_

_ Evaluating options…_

_ Evaluating options…_

Reese picked up the ringing pay phone, not at all sure what to expect. "_Contingency_?" a vaguely metallic voice asked. To disguise a human voice, or an actual machine, he couldn't tell.

"Harold is missing-kidnapped," he replied.

Was that a quick gasp of surprise, or just data noise? Again, it was hard to tell. "_Acknowledged_," came the atonal response. "_Return to base of operations. You will be contacted_." The line went dead in his hand.

'Base of operations' most likely meant the Library, so Reese hailed a cab.

* * *

Reese found the lock to the grille gate on the floor, the Library open but otherwise nothing seemed to have been disturbed. Alicia Corwin's work, no doubt due to her stalking Finch. Root, _aka_ Caroline Turing, had made them come to her in her twisted, diabolical plan. Reese's gut clenched in dread of what might be happening to Finch.

His cell phone beeped. Incoming text message, unknown sender. _What have I gotten myself into_, Reese wondered.

_Activating contingency plan_, the message read. _Procure a Wi-Fi enabled laptop computer_. This entailed going into Finch's supply room, something Reese had studiously avoided until now.

A side niche that might have been a reading area in this building's previous life as a library was now packed floor to ceiling with every imaginable piece of computer gear, and even some that Reese had no idea what the equipment was for. Finch was a magpie for tech, but at least he was a well-organized one, Reese thought as he pulled a computer out, a rugged design for use in the field. He'd used one similar many times in Iraq and Afghanistan.

He acknowledged the text and thought about what to do to secure the Library. It probably would not stay safe. _Base likely compromised_, the Machine sent to him.

"Tell me something I don't know," muttered Reese. It ignored him, just like Finch. Finally he rigged the gates as best he could, making it at least look secured. He walked a few blocks and hailed a cab back to Baxter Street.

* * *

Reese locked his doors and sat with his back to the wall, opening the laptop. The screen was blank for a moment, then a single line of greeting…

_Asset Reese, John_.

"Um, yes, hello," Reese replied, and then realized it was probably better to type. _Wi-fi connection is secure?_

_It has been made so_, came the reply. _Encryption impossible to break…except by system algorithm_.

"Wow. All right, let's get started then." But there were no directories or system files that Reese could find, and the Machine could not give him any help, or so it seemed.

"I don't know what to do!" Reese finally shouted at the implacable screen. "Help me to help you find Finch!"

The cursor blinked and the text changed to _Evaluating options_… Lines of data scrolled down the screen in a blur, too fast to read while the message flashed red. Finally, it stopped.

_Recommendation: Activate asset Clarissa Sheridan_.

Reese blinked at that. "What? Why bring in Claire? Explain." He thought it was going to balk again, but it obediently listed the reasons.

_ 1. Subject has the required technical skills to assist in interaction with the machine;_

_ 2. Subject knows of the existence of the machine;_

_ 3. Admin had vetted subject and granted clearance;_

_ 4. Asset John Reese in ongoing sexual relationship with subject…_

"That's enough," Reese ordered. "It's too creepy that you know that."

There was nothing to do but do it. He called and arranged to meet her at Columbus Park, by the chess tables.

* * *

"John is not usually so unsure of his moves, young lady, I assure you," Mr. Han said to Claire as she came up behind him. Reese had been so deep in thought that he hadn't noticed her. "Do you play? Perhaps you can help him."

"Yes, I know chess, but I'm not very good. I'm too emotional a player."

Reese got up. "Next time, Han."

"Of course. All will be well, John."

He escorted her up to his fifth floor apartment, filling her in on the basics of the situation. "And what I really need is your help with this," he said, indicating the laptop.

"Net Gear portable computer, Wi-Fi enabled," Claire said, running her hands over the case. "Pretty basic. But I'll bet Harold made some after-market modifications, didn't he?"

"The Machine is communicating with me through it," Reese informed her.

She was incredulous. "It…_initiated_ contact with you?"

"I guess. I know it tracks me, so I told it to help me. It had me pick up the laptop. I can't make heads or tails of this thing, so it had me to come to you to help find Harold."

"It's a machine, John. Highly sophisticated and near sentient, but still just a computer, a difference engine. It executes order and responds to commands. It doesn't answer questions, it can't. At the core it's a binary system, on/off, if/then, yes/no. You have to give it specific parameters of what you want it to do," Claire instructed him, sounding very much like Finch.

"All right. Now what?"

"Get you set up, I guess." Reese opened the laptop. Claire sat down to a blank screen.

"Hello," she said, and the screen sprang to life.

_Clarissa Sheridan. Establishing voice print authorization. Recommend voice interaction be conducted through headset for better sound clarity._

"Bossy little beast, isn't it?" she said in an aside to Reese. He smiled.

"You have no idea." She found the same headset that Reese had been using and plugged in as instructed.

_Building user profile_, the Machine continued pompously. _Recommend password, voice and manual_.

"A password for an interface with a machine with a thousand eyes that guards us and spies on everything we do? That's easy. Argus. A-R-G-U-S."

Argus was Hera's many-eyed watchman. Hercules tricked him and put him to sleep to perform one of his tasks. Hera was furious with Argus and killed him, but eventually turned him into a peacock, with all his eyes on his spectacular tail, she explained to Reese.

Apparently the Machine had no use for mythology, either. _Data insufficient for voice recognition_, it said primly.

She talked to herself as she typed, a trait Reese found oddly endearing. First they tried to track Finch's cell. Having heard Turing's shooting Alicia and then her chilling, half-mad conversation with Harold, it started out promising but then abruptly stopped on the BQE.

"Probably thrown out the window and shattered into a million pieces," Reese grumped.

"It was a good idea, though," sympathized Claire.

"Well, what next?" Reese asked the obvious question.

She tapped her finger on the laptop. "Did Harold have one of these with him? Maybe we can track the Wi-Fi signal. I'll need the transmitter ID on it."

"I'm sure Finch has it in inventory somewhere. But his system is password-protected, and he changes it every day."

"I'm sure the Machine can help you get around that," Claire nodded at it.

* * *

_Asset John Reese at original base of operations_, Claire wrote. _Please assist with access to Administrator's files_.

The Machine balked. _No direct access to Admin system_, it hedged.

"Nice try," she muttered to herself. Again talking as she typed to emphasize the point, and so Reese could hear her, she continued _Please access Admin private system to obtain information necessary to save his life_!

_Working_, it responded shortly, and soon enough Reese said "We're in."

"Try not to look to look at anything other than what we absolutely need," Claire told him. "I think you know how neurotic Harold is about his privacy."

"Believe me, yes, I do," Reese replied.

* * *

The Wi-fi lead seemed promising at first, but then the trail went cold. The Machine steadfastly refused to access any more of Finch's personal information (such as it was), and finally every lead went nowhere, and over and over the only answer they got to any request was _Unable to comply_…

Claire made an extremely off-color remark and threw the headset down in disgust. Reese could swear that the cursor blinked slower as if considering a response before almost lazily scrolling up…

_Anatomically impossible_, it said, _as well as undesirable_. Claire stared at it. After nearly 24 hours of continuous interaction with them, the Machine's responses were becoming eerily human.

"That sounds exactly like something Harold would say, don't you think?" she asked Reese. "Haven't you ever wondered if he is the Machine?"

"Many times," Reese replied. She stood up and stretched, rolling her aching neck.

"I need to brush my teeth."

"Plenty of supplies in there." Reese glanced over as she walked away, and the data flow on the screen broke.

_Take her to bed, John_, it ordered. _Make love to her_.

_You'll be watching, I suppose_, Reese typed back.

_I'm always watching. I am the all-seeing eye that never sleeps._

He considered that. _Sex will help this operation…how?_

_Studies have shown that sex is an excellent stress reliever_, the Machine pontificated. _Release of stress will help you both relax and sleep better, improving operational efficiency upon mission resumption._

The Machine's ordered us to have sex, honey. Reese contemplated just how well that would go down. Like a lead balloon, or Goldman Sachs stock, no doubt. But nonetheless, he closed the laptop and covered it with a towel, just in case, and met her as she came out of t he bathroom.

"We're both exhausted," he said. "Let's get some sleep and start fresh tomorrow." She allowed him to lead her over to the bed.

"This place is definitely you," Claire commented, smoothing her hands over the steel-gray sheets. "A very masculine color scheme."

Reese smiled. "It needs a woman's touch," he said, pulling at a curl of her hair. "A touch of red." They did make love, slow and sweet, comforting each other on the loss of a friend.

* * *

The next morning, he woke refreshed, his mind clearer, at least. Claire stretched and smiled at him. "I've got some ideas to pursue, but I have to go alone," Reese told her.

"Ah, this is the dangerous part, then?"

"Yes, but you helped a lot. Thank you," he said.

"You'll find him, I know," Claire assured him. "Call me if you need anything."

" I promise I'll be in touch."

"I look forward to it," she replied.

* * *

The Machine complained when he logged on. _That was unnecessary, Mr. Reese. I can monitor your activities in other ways._

"It made me feel better," Reese told it. "Now, that's enough out of you. Let's get to work."


End file.
